He paused in the narrow street, listening. No clamor of merchants or clanking smiths—only distant hooves and the muted drip of rainwater from roof eaves. He slipped into the shadow of stacked crates, pressed glass-cold fingertips to the notebook’s spine, and whispered, “Map.”
A page flickered open. In its center, a simple grid of district names assembled itself:
|———— CITY MAP ————|
| North: Artisan’s Row |
| West: Merchant’s Quay |
| South: The Warrens |
| East: Hollowed Gate |
| Central: Royal Plaza |
|——————————————|
A pulsing dot marked his current location in the Warrens, far from any main road. The next objective glowed beneath:
Objective Updated: Reach Hollowed Gate (1.2 km East)
He exhaled, steeling himself. Two kilometers on unguarded streets—then the border of the dreaded Obsidian Order’s patrols. He tucked the notebook away and set off, cloak pulled tight.
The Warrens lived up to their name: a labyrinth of broken doors, shuttered windows, and graffiti proclaiming territory. Gaunt beggars huddled beneath ragged awnings; feral cats skulked along gutters. Kael skirted pools of stagnant water and stepped over festering refuse, each footfall echoing on cobblestones etched with age.
A sudden clatter to his left froze him. Two ragged children—eyes wide, cheeks hollow—tussled over a loaf of moldy bread. Their bony limbs flailed like scarecrows in a storm.
“Leave him be!” the younger one hissed as the other lunged. Before the fight could escalate, Kael’s hand shot out. He yanked the bread away, tossing it toward a rat scuttling beneath the crates. Startled, the rodent bolted; the children stared at him in shock.
“Why do you have that?” the taller brat demanded, nodding at Kael’s coat bulge.
“It’s mine,” Kael said, voice firm despite the tremor in his gut. “Go find your own scraps.”
The pair exchanged glances, then grinned. Hunger, not cruelty, drove them. They melted into the alley, hauling each other away. Kael exhaled, heart pounding. Even here, scraps of mercy existed.
First Skills Test
He slipped into a broader thoroughfare where shuttered market stalls lined the street like tombstones. He fumbled for the notebook again. Skills, he tapped.
A menu unfurled:
|————— SKILL LIST —————|
| 1. Barrier (Active) Level 1
| 2. Flash Step (Locked)
| 3. Detect (Locked)
| 4. Nullify (Locked)
|————— AVAILABLE POINTS: 0 —————|
No unspent points—yet the Barrier’s defensive utility gave him confidence. He shut the menu and marched on.
A half?rusted sign swung overhead: The Warrens → Hollowed Gate: 1 km. Encouraged, Kael increased his pace.
He rounded a street corner into a silent plaza where shattered fountains spilled stagnant water across cracked tiles. At its far edge, three city guards in dark uniforms blocked the archway leading east.
One guard’s eyes narrowed. “You there—stop.” His hand drifted to a flintlock at his hip.
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Kael froze. The Obsidian Order’s influence extended to city watch now—any stranger in the wrong place risked arrest…or worse. He ducked behind a toppled pillar, throat tight. He peered around it: the guard lifted the weapon, jaw set.
With no skills to evade, Kael’s mind raced. He needed distraction. In one motion, he opened the notebook to Inventory:
|—— INVENTORY ———|
| (Empty) |
|———————|
Empty. No tools, no coins.
He jabbed at the page. Nothing. The guards advanced, boots crunching glass. Kael backed toward a collapsed tent frame, arms braced. Heart hammering, muscles locked, he whispered, “Barrier.”
A shimmering dome of silver light bloomed around him—just in time. A shot cracked. The flintlock’s ball struck the barrier with a hollow thunk, showering sparks and chunks of pavement. Kael dropped to one knee, the shockwave rattling his bones, but the dome held.
The lead guard cursed and aimed again, but Kael had limited time. He closed his eyes, willed himself to mute the barrier. Instantly, the shield dissolved.
He bolted: a desperate lunge toward a side alley. The guards fired twice more; both shots rang past him, missing by inches. The staccato of musket fire faded as he dashed away, the city guard’s shouts swallowed by the alleys.
Kael skidded to a stop in near?total darkness, chest heaving. Every fiber of his being trembled—fear, adrenaline, relief. He pressed his back to a wall, sliding down until he sat.
Objective Updated: Survive patrol encounter (1/∞)
He stared at the notebook’s empty inventory. No flintlocks, no shield potions—just a fledgling skill that had almost killed him. He inhaled, measured his pounding pulse. His system was powerful, but raw. Without preparation, without resources, even a single skill could leave him exposed.
After the guards’ distant footsteps vanished, Kael rose and shook the rainwater from his hair. He steadied his voice. “Find Hollowed Gate.” The map page winked open again, and the marker pulsed eastward.
He retraced his steps through twisting corridors of sandstone walls. Each heartbeat reminded him: the Order would not relent. He needed allies—or at least weapons.
A torchlight flickered ahead. Kael froze and pressed himself against the wall. From the shadows emerged a figure in patched leather armor, face obscured by a cowl. They moved with silent grace, hand hovering near a sheathed dagger.
Kael swallowed. The figure paused, tilting their head. “Lost, traveler?” Their voice—soft, measured—carried a curious accent. Not Guard, not Order—something else.
Kael rose slowly. “I’m…looking for the Hollowed Gate.”
The figure studied him, then nodded. “Many seek it.” They sheathed the dagger. “You have something of great value, yes?” Their eyes flicked to Kael’s coat.
He hesitated—then unfastened his cloak enough to reveal the notebook’s edge. The cowl-shadowed face visible now: a young woman, her dark eyes bright with intelligence. “That,” she said, “I know.”
Relief warred with suspicion. “Who are you?”
“Call me Virelle.” She brushed rain from her shoulders. “I work outside both City and Order. I know the path east—and I know when someone dangerous carries a system.” She hesitated. “If you survive meeting me, you might survive the Order.”
Kael’s hand trembled. This stranger offered guidance—but at what cost? He glanced at the map, then back at Virelle. No other choice.
“Alright,” he whispered. “Lead the way.”
They slipped through welded shutters and down twelve narrow footpaths. Virelle moved with practiced stealth; Kael mirrored her steps, senses sharp. At last they arrived at a crumbling wall, overgrown with ivy and mile?wide cracks. A half?collapsed archway led through to fields beyond.
“The Hollowed Gate,” Virelle breathed.
Kael pressed his palm against the arch’s stone. The runes carved there were faded but discernible—ancient symbols hinting at a portal long closed. A thin breeze wafted through, carrying the tang of wet grass and smoke from distant forges.
He swallowed. “What is it?”
“A sanctuary once,” Virelle explained. “Now a smuggler’s passage. Few guards patrol here.” She glanced to the east, where the sun rose pale and low. “Beyond lies the Outer Wilds, beyond the city’s clutch. Stay there long enough, and the Order’s tracking fades.”
Kael nodded. Ambition fluttered in his chest: freedom, a chance to learn his system in peace. He took a step forward—but Virelle’s hand shot out, gripping his arm.
“Wait,” she said softly. “You’re not alone in wanting to escape.” She crouched and brushed fingers along the ivy-coated floor. “Listen.”
Far off—barely audible—rose the low thrumming of hoofbeats. Kael froze. The Obsidian Order did not send guards; they sent Hunters infused with magic. A second later, a flash of violet light cracked overhead.
Kael’s heart lurched. “They know.”
Virelle stood and drew a slender, rune-etched dagger glinting copper in the dawn. “Then we fight our way through…or die trying.”
She looked at him, eyes fierce. “Are you ready, Kaelos?”
He met her gaze, knuckles white on his notebook. The early sun caught the silver sigils on the notebook’s cover. A thrill of determination pulsed through him.
“Ready,” he said.
Virelle gave a curt nod, and together they stepped through the arch—into the uncertain light of dawn.